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himself. He was sure
     that the inspector had been waiting for that move! He probably even
realized that he was done for – and was all the more
     determined to strike back with everything he had.
    When he went to light a new cigar,
     Maigret snatched it from his mouth, tossed it into the coal scuttle – and for good
     measure removed the hat Van Damme hadn’t bothered to take off.
    â€˜For your information,’
     said the Belgian, ‘I have business to attend to. If you do not mean to
     officially arrest me in accordance with the regulations, I must ask you to be good
     enough to release me. If you don’t, I’ll be forced to file a complaint
     for false imprisonment.
    â€˜With regard to your little dip in
     the river, I might as well tell you that I’ll deny everything: the towpath was
     soggy and you slipped in the mud. The driver will confirm that I never tried to run
     away, as I would have if I’d really tried to drown you.
    â€˜As for the rest, I still
     don’t know what you might have against me. I came to Paris on business and I
     can prove that. Then I went to Rheims to see an old friend, an upstanding citizen
     like myself.
    â€˜After meeting you in Bremen,
     where we don’t often see Frenchmen, I was trusting enough to consider you a
     friend, taking you out for dinner and drinks and then offering you a ride back to
     Paris.
    â€˜You showed me and my friends the
     photograph of a man we do not know. A man who killed himself! That’s been
     materially proved. No one has lodged a complaint, so you have no grounds for taking
     action.
    â€˜And that’s all I have to
     say to you.’
    Maigret stuck a twist of paper into the
     stove, lit his pipe
and remarked, almost
     as an afterthought, ‘You’re perfectly free to go.’
    He could not help smiling to see Van
     Damme so dumbfounded by his suspiciously easy victory.
    â€˜What do you mean?’
    â€˜That you’re free,
     that’s all! May I add that I’m quite ready to return your hospitality
     and invite you to dinner.’
    Rarely had he felt so light-hearted. The
     other man gaped at him in amazement, almost in fear, as if the inspector’s
     words had been heavy with hidden threats. Warily, Van Damme rose to his feet.
    â€˜I’m free to return to
     Bremen?’
    â€˜Why not? You just said yourself
     that you’ve committed no crime.’
    For an instant, it seemed that Van Damme
     might recover his confidence and bluster, might even accept that dinner invitation
     and explain away the incident at Luzancy as clumsiness or a momentary
     aberration …
    But the smile on Maigret’s face
     snuffed out that flicker of optimism. Van Damme grabbed his hat and clapped it on to
     his head.
    â€˜How much do I owe you for the
     car?’
    â€˜Nothing at all. Only too happy to
     have been of service.’
    Van Damme was at such a loss for words
     that his lips were trembling, and he had no idea how to leave gracefully. In the end
     he shrugged and walked out, muttering, ‘Idiot!’
    But it was impossible to tell what or
     whom he meant by that.
    Out on the staircase, as Maigret leaned
     over the handrail to watch him go, he was still saying it over and over …
    Sergeant Lucas
     happened along with some files, on his way to his boss’s office.
    â€˜Quick! Get your hat and coat:
     follow that man to the ends of the earth if you have to …’
    And Maigret plucked the files from his
     subordinate’s hands.
    The inspector had just finished filling
     out various requests for information, each headed by a different name. Sent out to
     the appropriate divisions, these forms would return to him with detailed reports on
     these persons of interest: Maurice Belloir, a native of Liège, deputy director of a
     bank, Rue de Vesle, Rheims; Jef Lombard, photoengraver in Liège; Gaston Janin,
     sculptor, Rue Lepic, Paris; and Joseph Van